


taking the blame

by svitzian



Series: bad things happen bingo fills! [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, CC-2224 | Cody Needs a Hug, Clone Troopers as Brothers (Star Wars), Emotional Hurt, Gen, M/M, Military Inaccuracies, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Prompt Fill, Sad, also anakin may be ooc, anakin and cody Dont Like Each Other agenda, i know NOTHING about war or war strategies and it shows, it made me kinda sad, not super anakin friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29349840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svitzian/pseuds/svitzian
Summary: Cody breaks the news about casualties to General Skywalker. Obi-Wan steps in.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Anakin Skywalker, CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: bad things happen bingo fills! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155884
Comments: 9
Kudos: 91
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	taking the blame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curseofmen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseofmen/gifts).



> hehehehehehe :D i'm just happy that i managed to write something  
> warnings for this fic: probably WILD military inaccuracies (i have no idea how war works!), anakin is prob ooc, and its not super anakin friendly (though not overtly hostile either. he just has issues but in this case his issues really do come from a place of caring... they're just misdirected)  
> also, this is for a bad things happen bingo prompt  
> i hope you enjoy!!

Cody takes a deep breath, straightens his posture, and reaches forward to turn on the holo.

Almost immediately, blue light flickers to life in front of him, casting the inside of the empty command tent in its glow. It might have been enjoyable to look at—far more enjoyable than the mud and dirt Cody’s been dealing with for the better part of two weeks now, at least—but what takes up his attention are the two figures now projected before him, one with arms crossed over his chest, the other standing at attention a step behind and to the left.

“General,” Cody greets, the eyes under his bucket glancing from one figure to the other. “Captain.”

Under more relaxed circumstances, he might’ve risked using the name of the man he’s known since birth, the brother he’s fought beside for some time, now—but these aren’t relaxed circumstances, and Cody’s better than most at sticking to formality.

“Commander,” General Skywalker greets, the corners of his lips turned down in noticeable wariness. _If only he knew._ “You have a report for us?”

Right to business. It’s necessary, in a campaign like this, but that doesn’t make it any easier to brace himself for what he’s about to disclose, or for how he knows Skywalker will react. He takes a moment to breathe in the safety of his bucket, the solitude of the command tent, before he nods an affirmative.

“Yes, sir.” _Get it out, Cody, just get it out._ “We managed to take the hilltop about two standard hours ago, and the Separatist forces have been drawn back to a new front. However, we… encountered strong resistance, and we suffered severe casualties as a result.”

It was already silent, but now, tension seeps into the air. Behind Skywalker, Rex shifts almost imperceptibly— imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t a brother, maybe, who didn’t know him so well, but Cody sees it, and he, too, braces himself.

Skywalker doesn’t miss a beat, frown deepning. “How severe?”

It’s moments like these that Cody is beyond glad for his bucket. “Severe, sir,” Cody repeats, unwilling or unable to say much beyond that. He hasn’t even written the formal report yet, the casualty forms and the requisition requests for the new shinies—he’s just coordinated the digging of the graves, the making of the memorials. “It wasn’t—”

“Commander,” Skywalker interrupts, a certain intensity to his eyes that Cody’s seen only a few times. It still makes him feel breathless, and not in a good way. “I want a number.”

_A number._ Cody has the numbers in his head, has already committed them to memory, but speaking them aloud…

“Fifty-three confirmed, sir,” he says, as evenly as he can manage to. “One hundred thirteen unaccounted for.” Idly, Cody remembers that he’ll need to start organizing the search effort for the bodies, once the burials are done—if they’ll even have _time_ for a search effort before their next deployment, but Cody hopes they will, hopes they’ll be able to find and bury each brother properly—

“How many from the 501st?” Skywalker’s voice is curt, and Cody sighs a silent sigh.

_This_ had been his worry, at the outset of this campaign. With their own numbers down, the GAR had approved the 212th to temporarily borrow some of the 501st’s men—men who were now dead, who had died away from the brothers that meant the most to them.

_Kriff it all._

“Twenty-nine confirmed,” Cody managed, ignoring how dry his mouth, his throat, felt. “Seventy-two unaccounted for.”

Something changes in Skywalker’s expression. A flicker of something Cody’s only seen once or twice shines in his eyes, in the sudden stiffness to his body. The first time he’d seen it, he’d quietly patched into Rex’s HUD channel, asked if there was something that he needed to know about the General, if Rex needed transfer forms—but he’d been promised that everything was alright, that whatever was going on with Skywalker, it wasn’t being taken out on Rex.

Unfortunately, it looked like the time had come for it to be taken out on Cody.

“Commander.” _Deep breaths, Kote._ Skywalker stands stiff as a tower, arms crossed firmly over his chest, lips almost in a scowl as he stares at Cody as though he’s nothing at all. “Do you want to tell me why my men are dead?”

It comes from a good place. Cody knows this. Skywalker cares for his men, the same as Kenobi does. Rex has told him as much, and any man in the 501st would promise the same. Only he cares for them _differently,_ and it’s a difference that Cody isn’t used to, no matter how hard he tries to catch up. Kenobi cares for his men, does all he can to protect them—and Skywalker does all he can to hurt whoever’s hurt them.

In Skywalker’s mind, behind the anger Cody can _feel_ even through the holo, Cody is the one who’s hurt them. Forget the clankers— _Cody_ might as well have been the one to take a blaster to them, for all it matters to Skywalker.

He takes another deep breath.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Start with the condolences. It makes things easier when he has to give this news to Kenobi, and Cody hopes it’ll do the same job now that he’s breaking it to Skywalker. “As I said, we were facing heavy opposition. There was artillery positioned at the top of the hill while we were attempting to take it.” Cody forces himself through the words he’s rehearsed, the words he’s carefully chosen and prepared, but Skywalker’s expression doesn’t change one bit. “We had planned a flanked approach, but found that it wasn’t suited to the terrain, and I decided—"

“Forgive my commander, Anakin.”

A voice, melodic and smooth, speaks from behind Cody, and he might’ve jumped, alarmed at how easily Kenobi’s entrance slipped under his radar, were he not so utterly focused on trying to minimize Skywalker’s anger.

Obi-Wan steps forward, standing now at Cody’s side, and Cody’s grateful for his bucket again as he gives the Jedi a bewildered glance.

“And forgive me for my tardiness. I’m afraid I was held up, helping with the wounded.”

_Tardiness._ Cody blinks. Kenobi’s not _late_ to this meeting.

Kenobi wasn’t _invited_ to this meeting. Nor was he supposed to know about it until _after_ the fact.

It hadn’t been a deliberate exclusion on Cody’s part. But Obi-Wan was taking their losses hard enough already, and Cody was convinced that the last thing he needed was to be met with anger from the one person who meant more to him than anything else in the world. It was an easy conclusion to reach—Cody would take care of it, bear the brunt of Skywalker’s anger, and inform Kenobi after the fact. It was, after all, just another duty.

Now, though… despite how careful he’d been to keep Kenobi _out_ of this conversation, Cody can’t help but be selfishly, horribly relieved that he’s here now.

“Obi-Wan,” Skywalker greets tersely, Rex giving a nod from behind him. His posture hasn’t lost any of its stiffness, but the curve of his lips is somewhat less severe. Kenobi nods at each of them in turn, and Cody stands dumbly at his side.

“As I was saying,” Kenobi picks up, smooth and calm and polished, ever the negotiator, “you’ll have to forgive my commander. I’m afraid that we’ve seen quite a lot of action in the past few days, and he may have forgotten some of the details of our campaign.”

Cody hasn’t forgotten _shit_. Somehow, he gets the distinct impression that Obi-Wan is fully aware of this—but he doesn’t challenge his General on his words, instead remaining cautiously silent, waiting to see where he’s planning to take this conversation, while Skywalker casts a wary glance Cody’s way.

It’s better than the glares he’d gotten before, at least.

“I believe Cody was detailing our efforts to recover the hilltop from Separatist occupation,” Kenobi begins crisply, pausing for a moment to wait for Skywalker’s nod before he continues. “As he mentioned, the terrain complicated our initial plans of a multifaceted approach. Due to this and many other complications, I made the decision to utilize a forward charge.”

For one long, long moment, Cody is utterly thoughtless, struggling to process what Obi-Wan’s just said, what he’s just _done._

After another moment, he has the sense of mind to brace himself, to prepare for the full extent of Skywalker’s upset, to hear whatever harsh criticism and rebukes he has to offer.

Nothing comes. Instead, Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“At the moment, it was the only maneuver available to us.” Cody dares to look up, dares to take in the way Skywalker’s expression has softened just _barely,_ the way even Rex, stiff and still, seems slightly surprised for Kenobi’s words to not have been met with an outburst. “I deeply regret each and every life that it cost, but I assure you and your captain that your men died as heroes, fighting alongside their brothers, and that the others and I will do all we can to ensure that they are treated as such.”

Another beat of silence. Cody watches Skywalker’s throat bob as he swallows, and then watches as he nods just once. He still doesn’t speak.

“I’ll be able to discuss the matter in more detail later,” Kenobi promises, and Skywalker deflates a little bit more at that, some more of that stiffness fading away. Silently, Cody marvels at how the hell his general is accomplishing all this. “Until then, though, my commander and I have some more business to see to. I trust that you understand, Anakin.”

“I understand,” Skywalker repeats, his gaze wary but not overly hostile as he looks over at Obi-Wan. He glances at Cody for a moment, expression hardening just so—but when he looks to Kenobi again, the hardness melts away once more, leaving just a solemnity that still feels out of place on Skywalker’s face. “I’ll talk to you later, Obi-Wan.”

Skywalker turns, gives a nod, and behind him, Rex moves to a panel, presses a button. The holo in front of Cody flickers out a moment later, Rex and his general just _gone,_ just like that, and Cody finds himself staring at the space their blue projections previously occupied.

What the hell had just happened?

Beside him, Kenobi sighs, lifts a hand—then rests it on Cody’s shoulder, just for a moment, over his armor as though to console him, before letting it drop and stepping away, and finally, _finally,_ Cody snaps out of it enough to find words.

“General—” Kenobi’s already moving to slip out of the tent, but he pauses at Cody’s voice, leaving Cody to tense up, realizing at once that he hadn’t actually _planned_ what he was going to say.

“Wait.”

He hates how foolish his own voice sounds, so uncoordinated and unlike himself. Kenobi turns, but his brow is furrowed with that concerned look he wears more often than not, and he blinks at his commander as though nothing at all had just happened.

“Is everything alright, Cody?”

Again, Cody feels himself grasping for words, struggling to speak what he feels. In the end, he goes for simplicity.

“You didn’t have to do that, sir.”

Kenobi raises an infuriating brow, his expression the picture of innocence. “Do what, exactly?”

Cody’s confused, and his heart is still beating too fast, and all of it makes him _far_ less careful about what he says, more willing to _speak freely_ in the way Obi-Wan always insists he feel free to do. He swallows.

“ _Lie,_ sir,” he replies, somehow feeling a need for breath. “It wasn’t your decision to attempt that charge. It was mine.”

He’d been the one to first bring up the idea, huddled with the General and five other men behind an outcropping, knee-deep in mud with blaster fire ringing in his ears. He’d suggested it, trying desperately to find a way out of their current predicament. It had been his plan.

Obi-Wan’s expression softens, just for a beat, and he steps forward. “You may not see it that way, Commander,” he says softly, _too_ softly, just soft enough for something in Cody’s chest to twist, “but I do.”

Cody’s at a loss for words again, but he can tell that if he doesn’t say something, Kenobi will turn to leave once more—so, desperate, he says the first thing that comes to mind.

“But _I_ brought it up, sir.” He’s not usually so insistent in any matter, and certainly not in front of his general, but there’s something in the other man’s eyes that makes Cody’s throat feel thick with the need to speak, to say _something_ to take away the distance in his gaze. “It was my suggestion. I made the plan. It’s—” A heartbeat, loud and clear in his chest. “It’s not your fault.”

_Fault._ It’s the trickiest part about war. Cody likes to think he’s come to terms with the fact that no matter what choices he makes, no matter how many hours he spends poring over strategy, his men, his _brothers,_ are going to die. It’s what they were made to do, and he grew up knowing it—though that doesn’t make it any easier to face, any easier to silence the _what ifs_ that come at night, all the ways things might’ve been different, the ways he might’ve saved just _one more brother_ —

But _Kenobi._ Kenobi takes it harder than Cody’s ever seen, and now, it seems, is no different.

He almost flinches at Cody’s words, and the commander sucks in a breath at the sight, at the flash of vivid _hurt_ he sees on Obi-Wan’s face before he quickly recovers, before he covers it up again. One deep breath, and it’s like Cody never said anything at all, Kenobi’s face returning to a practiced, careful calm.

“I appreciate your sentiment, Commander,” he begins, voice still quiet and distant in a way that grips Cody’s heart. “Truly, I do.” Cody doesn’t doubt it, not when he can see the sad sincerity in Kenobi’s eyes—but there’s more coming, and Cody braces himself.

“However,” Kenobi says, swallowing again, almost imperceptibly. “I’m afraid that I was the one to give the order to initiate that charge. I believe that makes me far more culpable than you.”

Cody blinks, unbelieving, because Kenobi can’t be serious about this—but _kriff,_ that look is still in his eyes, shining blue-grey and looking right into Cody’s heart.

“General.” Cody puts the same intensity behind the word as he might’ve if he were admonishing him for escaping medbay again, or trying to evade the medics. “It was _my_ plan.” At a loss, he shakes his head again, staring at the other and imploring him to _feel_ his sincerity even through the bucket, to see the truth of the matter as it stares at both of them. “If anyone is to blame, sir, it’s _me,_ not you, and—” He swallows hard. “General Skywalker should know that.”

For one brief, fleeting moment, Obi-Wan smiles—a sad smile, with none of his usual lightness. Somehow, it’s worse than the sad look he’d been wearing before. “It was my order, Commander,” he says faintly, meeting Cody’s gaze head-on. “And it is my responsibility to accept the consequences.”

Cody stares, baffled— _accept_ what _consequences? General Skywalker’s anger, or the burden of requisition forms, or the_ guilt, _the kind that’ll suffocate you at night—_ before he can manage to respond.

“But sir,” he insists, that boldness from before back, boldness that he would never _dare_ to utilize were it not for stakes like these, for something as important as his general is to him. “General Skywalker—”

Again, Obi-Wan smiles sadly, giving just one mild shake of his head to cut Cody off—and again, a careful hand raises to rest on his shoulders.

“Better that he’s mildly upset with me than putting an undue burden on you,” Obi-Wan says gently, with a ghost of that mirth he usually carries so effortlessly. It fades after a moment, just as his hand falls away from Cody’s shoulder, and Obi-Wan replaces it with solemnness. “I’ll deal with him,” he promises. “And I’ll see that your brothers are taken care of.”

His words strike something deep in Cody’s heart, something he hadn’t known was there. He knows, of course, what Obbi-Wan means—the burials, the recovery efforts, the wounded, all of it. He’s done as much before, has always cared for his men deeply enough to help with that sort of thing, but _now—_ now, it’s so much more, and Cody doesn’t know what to say.

“General,” he says, something in his tone pleading, hoping that Obi-Wan will hear him, will break free of whatever burden he’s placed on himself, or at least let Cody carry it with him—

But Obi-Wan’s eyes only sadden further, and he bows his head just so, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry, Commander.” Another step away, and Cody’s words burn at his throat, the urge to tell him not to go, to wipe away all of his doubts, all of the blame he carries, to tell him that there’s nothing to be sorry _for,_ it’s _not his fault_ —

Obi-Wan manages a weak echo of a smile, meeting his gaze one last time. “I’ll do better, next time.”

A promise—a promise that he _doesn’t need to make,_ something Cody already _knows,_ deep down in his chest, but before he can tell him that, his general’s gone. The tent’s entrance flap swings slightly in the wind, and Cody stands, alone and with a soreness in his heart that hurts more than he can explain.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoyed!!! as always, comments and kudos are so so so very appreciated
> 
> as mentioned above, this IS a bad things happen bingo prompt!! feel free to check out my card and send prompts with characters or ships either on my tumblr, or through my cc!
> 
> you can find me... :  
> on tumblr @dotnscal  
> on twitter @g0nkdroid


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